


Say My Name

by amelia_vale_official



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Comfort, Cute, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fanfiction, Fluff and Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sheith, Jealousy, Jeith - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Mild Blood, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Smut, Soft sex, Vanilla, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 21:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15872193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia_vale_official/pseuds/amelia_vale_official
Summary: Keith has nightmares, and they're growing steadily worse with each night. In the beginning they were easy to deal with, and James was all too happy to pull him into his arms once he'd calmed down, but his concern over his boyfriend grows to feelings of betrayal one night when he wakes from a nightmare with someone else's name on his tongue.





	Say My Name

**Author's Note:**

> Endgame Jeith with soft smut at the end. Implied Sheith, not endgame.

James didn’t immediately know how to deal with Keith’s nightmares. When they first started doing this, staying the night together, it was every other night, sometimes only once or twice a week, there were even times when they went weeks without seeing each other if they were too busy. Sometimes they got intimate, but Keith seemed to be satisfied just lying with someone while he fell asleep. James got the feeling he didn’t like being alone at night.

He didn’t mind, he treasured the nights he could curl up in the almost too-small bed in the Garrison dorm with Keith. They didn’t stay the night together more than once, never two nights in a row, but they’d stayed together long enough for James to pick up on the little sleeping habits Keith had.

He didn’t like sleeping on the outer side of the bed, for example. He insisted on slotting himself between James and the wall, and always kept the wall to his back, face buried in either the pillow or James’ chest. It was such a big thing for him that they fought about it before, James questioning why it was such a big deal. The argument ended with Keith leaving, and it was a week before they talked again. That was early on in their relationship, though. James had gotten used to it, and no longer questioned it.

Another habit Keith had was sleeping with weapons. For a while he would always slip a knife beneath his pillow, and the first times James found it, he got a little uncomfortable. He still remembered how he’d turned over on his side to throw an arm around Keith, his other arm slipping up under the pillow under their heads, fingers hitting the knife and eyes squinting as he questioned its presence.

“Why do you have a knife in the bed?”

“It’s mine.”

“Yea no shit, why is it here?”

Keith had reached under the pillow, tugging it away from James and pushing it closer to the wall, burying his face in his pillow, “Just in case.”

James wanted to ask what sort of scenario played in Keith’s head to make him paranoid enough to sleep with a knife, but his better judgement told him to keep the judgement to himself, and wrapped his arms around Keith. That was the end of it, but Keith did stop hiding knives in the sheets after that. Instead he kept his bayard on hand, which wasn’t much better, but at least it was blunt without a sharp edge.

One of his more endearing habits was how he would somehow nestle himself under James sometime during the night. He clearly did it unconsciously, the first time he woke up like that his face darkened and he shoved the fighter pilot out of the bed, but after that he just held tighter. He was always tucked under one of James’ arms, even if James was on his back, or huddled against James’ back when he wasn’t facing Keith, but the times when he’d curl deep beneath the covers and hug James around the waist, face pressed to his stomach, were probably James’ favorite.

If Keith was just a little tired, he’d sleep on his back, not move more than shifting a little now and then, arms normally lying on top of the covers, but if he was exhausted, drained, from work or training or something else, then he’d be a lot less elegant, all limbs tangled in sheets and face in pillows. Sometimes he snored a little, but it was soft and easy to ignore, and if he was tired enough, he would drool in his sleep.

He wasn’t exactly a cuddler, but there were times when he tugged at James to pull him closer. Those times were spontaneous and impossible to predict, but they were rare enough that James would go with it whenever Keith seemed willing. James wasn’t much of a cuddler either, but who cared when they were sleeping?

They didn’t really decide to move in together, there was no discussion and nothing was planned. James just realized one day out of the blue that most of Keith’s things had been moved to his dorm. He still had his own room of course, but it was more like an extra closet now, a place where Keith dropped paperwork he wanted to ignore, where he went if he didn’t want to wait for James to finish his shower (and James didn’t want to share), where he kept extra clothes, normally casual attire, and where he would go if they had a fight.

Other than that, Keith was basically a new exclusive in James’ room. He was almost always there waiting at the end of the day, already lying out on the bed with a tablet in hand watching a movie or reading something. He had a toothbrush in the bathroom, even shampoo (it smelt like cucumbers and cactus, a true desert boy, James loved it). He had his own towel, a drawer where he kept shirts and underwear, a special corner he’d designated as his to throw his boots (there were scuff marks on the walls there from throwing the shoes against them after a long day, James always nagged Keith for it, but when all was said and done, it didn’t bother him too much).

There were items in James room that belonged to Keith now, and counting them all normally made James feel somewhat possessive; smug. That cup was Keith’s now, so was that pillow. Keith always sat in that chair, that notebook was his now, and that discarded sock was probably his too. Parts of this room were his now. Parts of James’ entire life belonged to Keith, and he was satisfied with that.

The first nightmare came a month after they started sleeping continuously in the same room together. James noticed his boyfriend was shifting around a bit more than usual, seemed uncomfortable, and the sharp elbows poking him roused him from sleep and into a grouchy grumble as he rolled onto his back to glare at where Keith was lying.

“What’s wrong with you? Leg cramp? Look I have a meeting in the morning, can you just stretch or something?”

There was no response, which greatly annoyed James, watching suspiciously as Keith rolled onto his side, facing James. That’s when he realized he was still asleep, brow drawn and lines deep set in his face, sweat beaded across his forehead and jaw clenched, biting back strange, deep noises of discomfort.

“Keith?” James pushed himself onto his elbow and reached out to shake Keith by the shoulder, which had been only one of his mistakes.

Keith began to lash out with a gasp, so James grabbed one of his hands before moving to touch his cheek in an attempt to wake him up. That was his biggest mistake, and Keith’s eyes snapped open, the whites glowing yellow and his indigo pupil in a narrow slit. James felt pain explode along his jaw, a grunt pushed from his lungs, and he found himself blinking up at the ceiling, legs still tangled in the sheets as he laid on the floor just off the side of the bed.

Keith was sitting up, gasping with a gaping mouth, hands covering his face and body curled forward over lifted knees. James kicked himself free of the sheets and tried to get back on the bed, setting a hand on Keith’s back, but that only brought another hit, and Keith was strong, so the punches fucking hurt.

“Fuck!” James yelped and staggered back, holding the back of his hand against his mouth and grunting a little from the taste of blood, “Jesus… fine, punch me, whatever,” he turned on his heel and grabbed his coat, keys, and a pair of shoes, stomping towards the door, “Enjoy the bed, asshole.”

He left, went to Keith’s dorm instead, didn’t do much beyond wipe his hand over his mouth and smear blood across his cheek before throwing his things to the ground and falling down face first into Keith’s old bed. The room was cold, but the sheets still smelt like Keith’s shampoo, and for some reason that managed to calm James down and lull him into sleep.

In retrospect, leaving Keith like that had probably been somewhat ill advised and rude, but James had been tired and annoyed at being punched in the face twice when he was just trying to help. He was angry, confused, didn’t really know what was happening, so he just left. When he woke up he was somewhat surprised to see Keith crouching by the bed, arms folded on the edge of it and face hidden.

James pushed himself up, scrubbing at his eyes with a fist, “Keith? What are you doing, what time is it?”

Keith lifted his head up and James froze, staring at the red, raw eyes, dry trail of tears on both cheeks, and deep shadows beneath tired eyes. His hair was a tangled mess, he looked horrible, and James reacted by sitting up and reaching out to hold his face, near melting when Keith shut his eyes and leaned into his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a barely audible whisper, and James shook his head.

“Hey don’t worry about it, not like I’ve never been punched.”

Keith winced at that, dropping his face against James’ thigh, fingers curling into the fabric covering his knee, “I didn’t mean it… I woke up and you were gone. I’m sorry.”

“Keith, I said it’s fine. You needed space,” Keith rolled his head to glare off to the side bitterly, “What was wrong with you last night? Can you tell me?”

Keith seemed to consider it, tapping some nonsensical rhythm against James’ knee before answering, “Bad dream,” he lifted his head, eyes keeping away from James’ face, “Just a bad dream.”

James knew better than to push for more information, and just reached out to try and untangle Keith’s hair with his fingers, leaning close to press his lips to Keith’s temple, offering, “I get those too,” before suggesting they take a shower.

They’d been together long enough for James to recognize when Keith was in a really bad or low mood, so he did his best to help, taking a shower with Keith and washing his hair for him, in return not moving when Keith insisted he patch up the busted lip and nasty yellowing bruise on James’ jaw.

When Rizavi asked about the bandages he just shrugged, “It’s hard to spar casually in a small dorm room.” He got teased for that one, but didn’t mind much, and by the end of the day when he got to his room, Keith was lying out on the bed with a book and seemed much calmer than he had that morning.

It took him a while to really get back to normal, about as long as it took for James’ lip to heal up. Seeing the bandages made Keith wince, he wouldn’t get too close to James, there were two nights when he slept on the ground even, claiming his back hurt, which was clearly a lie. The third night he tried that, James went down with him, wrapping Keith up in his arms and one of the blankets he’d dragged with him, holding the paladin tight to his chest and kissing his eyebrow.

“I’ll just punch you in the face tomorrow and we’ll call it even, how’s that?”

Keith actually said okay. He nodded his head and vocally agreed that’s how they needed to deal with this, and James wanted to punch him for actually saying it was a good idea, but just sighed and shut his eyes. He didn’t punch him of course, and after a week Keith was back to normal.

James read up on nightmares, always when Keith wasn’t around so he wouldn’t know what he was doing, and by the time the next one came along, a little over a month after the first, James was pretty certain of how to deal with it properly.

When Keith started to shift around, waking James up, he was about to try and rouse Keith from sleep to scold him for moving around too much. Until he realized what was happening and slowly laid himself back down, scooting to the very edge of the bed to give Keith space and watching with tense shoulders as he reacted to whatever invisible force he was fighting off.

James couldn’t help. He knew he couldn’t help and it tore him up inside, pinching his eyes closed so he didn’t have to watch the way Keith arched his back with a strangled gasp, as if someone was trying to choke him. It lasted too long, though it was probably only a few moments, until Keith sat bolt right in bed with a scream, an actual scream, that had James wincing even deeper into the mattress.

Don’t touch him yet, he had to remind himself, staying as stationary and still as he possibly could while keeping an eye on Keith’s trembling, heaving shoulders, knees lifted towards his chest and hands clinging to the sheets. His eyes had taken on the yellow sheen of his Galra side, which was a dead giveaway that he was really not okay, and they seemed to hold a certain eerie glow as they stared blankly ahead of himself, not seeing anything besides the events from his recent night terror.

It took him a long time to start to settle, closing his eyes and dropping his head before lifting a hand to rub his face, peeling his eyes open and staring down at his hand with grit teeth. His eyes were back to normal now, so James decided that was a good sign he was okay, and slowly propped himself onto his elbow, holding his other arm out towards Keith but not touching him.

“Babe, come over here.”

Keith blinked as if in surprise and looked back at James with almost comically wide eyes, though he quickly relaxed, shoulders sagging as he pulled himself closer, allowing James to wrap him up in his arms before lying them both back down. James carded his fingers through Keith’s hair, one arm tight around his shoulders, purposely tangling their legs together to get Keith as close as possible.

“I’m still right here, baby, I’m right here, you’re okay. This is normal.”

Keith wrapped his arms around James’ waist, rubbing his face against his chest and giving a shaky sigh that even shook his shoulders, which James hugged even tighter.

“Go back to sleep.”

That’s how James dealt with Keith’s nightmares. They weren’t common, in the beginning at least. At least once a month Keith would have a really bad nightmare, but after a few times of managing to help him through it, James decided he could deal with it. So long as Keith knew he was there, he managed to calm down a lot quicker than normal. He would cling to James, which he loved despite the situation, and in the morning it was like nothing had happened.

After a few months, however, the nightmares started to happen more and more often. Once a week, then twice. James continued to read up on PTSD and nightmares, he plugged in a nightlight and defended himself by saying he was tired of tripping over shoes in the middle of the night, hiding the fact the real reason for it was to maybe help Keith sleep better.

James didn’t really know if the dim light helped, because the nightmares kept coming, kept escalating, until the night when Keith jerked up in bed with a sob and nearly screamed, “Shiro-!” before he choked on his own voice, falling forward over his knees and panting, hands tangled in his hair.

James didn’t react immediately like he usually did. He was frozen in some form of shock, eyes wide as he stared at where Keith had been a moment before. Keith took longer to calm down, his breath regulating, and this was normally the time James already had him cradled in his arms, but he… couldn’t seem to move. He was still lost in shock, and shut his eyes when Keith started to shift around, looking around the room dizzily.

When he laid back down, he looked over at James, but all he saw was closed eyes. Even with all the nights James had been awake to comfort him after a nightmare, he didn’t think this was weird. The pilot was probably exhausted, Keith couldn’t constantly expect him to just be there like he was required to be. That wasn’t fair at all.

Still, after these kinds of nightmares, James was the only one who could get him back to sleep, so he scooted closer and pushed himself against James’ chest, clinging to him. James, conscious but pretending not to be, felt his heart break with Keith’s shaky sigh. He moved lethargically, as if he’d just woken up, and wrapped his arms around Keith.

“You okay?” he asked on a mumble, and Keith tensed before burying himself deeper against James.

“I didn’t… mean to wake you up.”

“S'fine, babe. Nightmare?”

“I… yea. I’m fine.”

“Hm.”

James didn’t push further, he never pushed Keith to talk about his dreams. He encouraged him to talk if he needed to, but never tried to force anything. Keith would talk when he was ready, James didn’t want to break his clearly fragile psyche by forcing him into reliving trauma that still ailed him in his dreams. Which wasn’t fair. Sleep was supposed to be a time to relax, recharge, a time where Keith could just forget Voltron, and the war, and everything. Instead, sleeping was an unpredictable game of night terror or no night terror, and it really had to be exhausting.

It happened more after that. The sharp, strangled, incomprehensible gasp that Keith would let out upon jerking awake from a nightmare had shifted dramatically into nearly screaming Shiro’s name, every time. Every damn time. Maybe James was being irrational for getting a little more annoyed every time it happened, but he couldn’t help but question it.

Who had been there to hold Keith the past few months when he’d been waking from nightmares? Last time James checked, it had most definitely been him and not Shiro. So why would Keith be whimpering the captain’s name after a nightmare? Why wouldn’t he call for James, who was already right next to him, waiting and eager to comfort him? It… James just didn’t get it.

He knew, everyone knew, that Keith had a close relationship with Shiro, and had ever since they met. They would do a lot together, just the two of them, back when Keith was still in the Garrison as a cadet. Shiro would take him out for private flying lessons, racing hoverbikes through the desert landscape, stopping to talk in the corridors, even eat together in the mess hall, despite the fact Shiro was a superior officer as well as a teacher and had no responsibility to eat with lowly cadets instead of fellow officers.

When he left on the Kerberos Mission, Keith stayed on the launch pad the longest, staring at the sky until someone yelled at him to get to class. When Iverson and Admiral Sanda gave the formal announcement that they’d lost touch with the Kerberos team, following up with a statement of failure by pilot error and an obvious assumption that the entire crew was lost, Keith broke apart.

He blew up at every little thing, and ended up getting booted from the Garrison; because he lost Shiro.

Shiro’s reappearance was what dragged Keith up into the endless cosmos, he was the reason they returned so different. Shiro was why Keith was a paladin now, he was the indirect cause of all Keith’s trauma and nightmares, yet they were still so close. James respected their relationship, he understood how difficult it was for Keith to make friends, and admired that he was able to make a strong connection with Shiro, but… this seemed different. Something was clearly going on.

Every time Keith was having a nightmare, James just waited, watched, and shut his eyes with a wince as he jerked awake with a cry of Shiro’s name. It took him longer and longer to calm down after his nightmares, sometimes he would stagger out of the bed and just pace. There were two instances that James had been facing the room with his back to Keith in sleep, where he was given a clear view of his lover pacing the room after a nightmare.

The glow from the little nightlight cast over him like a dim veil, like the glow from a dying star, and it was enough light for James to see the panic and pain on his face, shoulders shaking, fingers clawing the scar on his cheek as if it hurt. Keith did that sometimes, absently touch the scar on his face or shoulder, getting defensive if someone asked about either.

James wanted to comfort him, he really did, but there was a bitter, stupid, childish voice at the back of his mind whispering, “Why bother? He clearly doesn’t need your comfort. He wants Shiro, not you. He’s always wanted Shiro. You were an idiot to think this relationship could work.”

Even with that annoying voice telling him he wasn’t enough, he still eagerly held Keith when he crawled back onto the bed and pressed himself to James’ chest. Even if he cried and screamed Shiro’s name, he still went to James for comfort, clung to James, stopped shaking because James was the one holding him.

Logically he knew he should probably just ask Keith about it, if it was bothering him this much and making him this insecure, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. What right did he have to ask Keith about his nightmares? He would talk to James about them when he was ready, and he obviously wasn’t ready yet. James didn’t want the paladin to hate him for pushing too hard too soon.

It kept happening. Keith’s nightmares escalated, became more common until he was having one every night, sometimes twice a night, if he even managed to get back to sleep after waking the first time. Now when he stumbled from the bed he would run to the bathroom, and James could hear him retching and sobbing before turning on the shower head; and he kept screaming for Shiro.

Then the night when he woke up, threw himself in the shower after throwing up, and just left the room. That had James sitting bolt with wide eyes, panicked, thinking Keith was sleep walking. So he followed, hurried to find him so he could lead him back to their bedroom, but froze in his tracks when he found the still fully clothed, soaked, shoe-less paladin hanging his head at Shiro’s door, reaching out to knock and waiting until the door slid open to a bleary eyed, half asleep Shiro.

“Wh- Keith?” he rubbed his eyes with his good hand, blinking them wider, “What the hell? What are you wet for? What happened? What time is it?”

“Can… we talk?”

“Yea, of course,” Shiro stepped to the side with an arm out, concern on his face as Keith shuffled into his room, “Did you and James have a fight?”

Then the door was closed and James was the one who had to find a bathroom before he threw up on the floor. Why didn’t Keith go to James? Why’d he leave the room? Did… was he maybe getting tired of James? James wasn’t good enough, maybe, he was in love with Shiro and had been the whole time. Maybe he was just using James as an outlet for frustration against unrequited love.

So then, why would he move in with James?

James couldn’t think clearly the next day, he was too distracted thinking about Keith, his nightmares, how he called Shiro’s name after a bad dream, how he went to Shiro last night instead of returning to the bed to hide in James’ arms.

He blamed himself. For the past few nightmares he hadn’t been reaching out to Keith to comfort him. Keith was the one who had to turn and huddle against James for James to respond, because he was being a dick and pretending to be asleep; because he was scared to face Keith, scared of how he called Shiro’s name, of what that could mean. He was the one who pushed Keith away.

It was the fifth time he crashed the sim before Rizavi dragged him to the side to let someone else train, shoving him against the wall with one hand, the other on her hip, “Okay what’s your problem today? You never crash the simulators, and I know this one is a bit wacky what with it being similar to the lion’s controls and literally nothing like what we’ve ever worked with before, but that’s no excuse. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” James pushed her aside and stepped past her, towards the table at the back of the room where snacks and bottles of water were sitting.

“Clearly something is seriously wrong,” she wasn’t letting it drop, and James wasn’t surprised.

She was a spitfire after all, she wouldn’t back down for anything, especially not this. James might have been designated as their squadrons leader, but Rizavi was a faction all on her own. When James picked up a bottle of water she snatched it from him, using it to point into his face.

“Are you hiding something? Did you and Keith get into a fight?”

“Why does everyone think we fought whenever we’re in a bad mood?” James demanded, picking up another bottle and opening it, “No, we didn’t fight.”

“Then what’s the problem, Griffin?”

“Nothing, there is no problem,” James rushed out, throwing his head back and chugging the water like he’d been without it for days.

“James, you can talk to me, I’m your teammate and I’m you’re friend. And do I have to add that you being out of your head like this can be dangerous if we’re on a mission?” she pointed towards the sim, “That could’ve been the real you crashing into a real lake of lava, James.”

“Alright!” James smashed the empty bottle of water against the table, turning to Rizavi, “Just… I get it, alright?!”

She stared at him with a look of understanding, glancing off to the side as if to ensure no one had seen him snap before stepping closer and lowering her voice, “Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”

James sighed, head bowed, lifting a hand to run through his hair and yanking at it before turning, “Keith’s nightmares are getting worse.”

“Nightmares?” Rizavi repeated the word as if it didn’t make sense, like it was the last thing she expected him to say, “I didn’t know he had nightmares.”

“Yea, well, it’s not information for me to tell people about,” James snapped, crushing the bottle into a crumpled mess that he threw into the trashcan, “Just… it started out once every other month, then once a month, then once a week, and now he’s having them once or twice a night.”

“Oh man, James, I’m sorry. Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” James snapped, not turning to look at Rizavi, “He’s… screaming himself awake, and… always yelling for someone.”

“Well at least you’re right there when he calls for you, right?”

“It’s not my name he’s saying,” James stated simply, and silence answered him, for a long time just silence until Rizavi whispers.

“Oh,” it’s soft and tiny and uncertain, and James turned to look at the wince on her face, bottom lip between her teeth and eyes off to the side like she was struggling to figure out what to say.

“In a vulnerable, weakened mental state, he calls for someone who isn’t me,” James said, and she winced more, “How am I supposed to translate that?”

She huffed, standing straighter and looking James in the eye, “I have no idea,” she said honestly, “but you should probably think about talking to him.”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to know so you could help me.”

“And I still want to, but this is beyond me,” Rizavi held her hands up, “I mean I thought you were having sex troubles, or fighting over the bathroom mirror, I wasn’t expecting something like unconsciously desiring another guy.”

“Rizavi I’m going to punch you,” James promised, and she took a step back.

“James, really. Talk to him. Maybe… maybe this isn’t the kind of relationship you need. I know you like him, like a lot, and I know you really care about him, but if it’s just hurting you both to be with each other… would you rather stay together and suffer, or split up and try to find common ground?”

James felt pure pain in his chest at that question, and Rizavi set down the water bottle she’d taken from him before walking back towards the simulator, leaving him to his thoughts. They weren’t very good thoughts, though. Break up with Keith? Was that what he was supposed to do? He never once even considered a breakup to be a possibility. The past few months their relationship had only grown stronger, and sure they had disagreements, but… James could deal with those.

He cared about Keith, he treasured him more than anything. James had lost everything in the war with Sendak, his parents, and sure he had his team, but he still felt alone at times. Keith was all he had. Was he really going to break up with him because he was crying Shiro’s name after a nightmare.

A shudder shook through him and he leaned against the table. If that was what he had to do for Keith to be happy… maybe he should…

He didn’t go straight into his dorm when he was done with the day. Instead he leaned against the door to wait for Keith, not really considering that this should be a private conversation. When Keith walked down the hall he was looking down at a tablet, his face drawn in concentration, but he paused and lifted his head when he seemed to realize someone was blocking him.

“James?”

“Hey, you done for the day?” James asked and Keith shut down the screen before nodding.

“Yea, why?”

James hesitated, just stared at Keith for a moment, memorizing the lines of his face. He looked tired, his face was paler than it should have been, light shadows under his eyes, which had a thin rim of red left over from crying. Trying his best to look normal it seemed, as if nothing was bothering him. He wouldn’t have to look so broken if he was sleeping beside someone who could actually help him, someone he actually loved.

James shut his eyes at the bitter thought, and Keith furrowed his brow in confusion, catching on to the tension and taking a step forward, “Let’s go inside to talk.”

“No, this has to be said here,” James said, stopping Keith when he reached out for the panel in the wall that would open the door to James’ dorm; the dorm they’d been sharing. James would have to delete Keith’s palm scan later…

“What… needs to be said?” Keith asked cautiously, looking up and down the hall before focusing on James, “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

James exhaled through his nose, “Look, Keith, I’ve been thinking about this a lot… I don’t think this… us… is going to work out,” he didn’t lift his eyes, completely avoided the expression that Keith could have been giving him.

The hallway was eerily silent for a long time before the paladin finally spoke, “You’re breaking up with me?”

James lifted his head, he expected to see disdain, annoyance, some kind of fire in Keith’s eyes because he was angry, but he just saw… pain, disbelief, confusion, and it was almost enough for James to laugh, say just kidding, pull Keith into the room and hug him all night, but this wasn’t about James. This was about Keith.

“Look, I know you’re not happy with me.”

“Says who?”

“Keith just listen to me,” James insisted, stepping away from the door, “I haven’t been able to help you through your nightmares lately. Clearly I’m not what you need, and obviously I’ve outlived my use!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Keith demanded, shoulders tense, “Who says you’ve outlived your use? What do you mean you’re not what I need?”

“You’d be happier if you were with someone else, someone you actually loved. I know it’s not me!”

“James!”

“I’m not mad at you, okay, that’s not why I’m doing this. I just want you happy, I want you to feel safe at night,” James snapped before Keith could get a word in edgewise, “With your nightmares getting worse, it’s obvious you don’t feel safe with me, even if I’m there waiting to comfort you, it’s not enough, just admit it!”

“That’s not true!” Keith yelled back, “James what is this even about?! My nightmares, is that what this is? Are you sick of dealing with me or something?” hurt filtered into his eyes and James bristled.

“I am not sick of you, Keith, and I don’t mind dealing with you after your nightmares,” he said, almost angrily, because even if they broke up, James needed Keith to know he was still there for him, “I’ll always be here if you need me, but right now you just need something… you need someone else, and I understand, I really do, I’m not mad at you-!”

“James would you shut up?!” Keith had his hands up, looking annoyed and confused, and there was that anger James had been waiting for, “You’re not making any sense right now! Where in Quiznak did you get the idea that I didn’t need you?! That I needed someone else?! Who else would I want?! Who else do you think, in that dumb head of yours, that I could possibly want more than you?!”

“Shiro!” James snapped in response, and Keith’s face bled all color as his mouth parted but no words left, “Keith I am always awake at night! I wake up when you start shifting around, when your nightmare is getting bad, I’m always awake to wait for you to calm down so I can help! But what am I supposed to think when you scream his name when you wake up, huh?!”

Realization, then embarrassment, shame, filtered across Keith’s face, which fell as he dropped his arms to his sides, staring at James, who was panting. He didn’t say anything, no defense or disagreement, and that made it worse as James grit his teeth.

“I already know you’ve always cared for him, Keith. You’d do anything for him, and I’m not mad about that, I think it’s a good thing that you can let people in despite the walls you have up. I’m happy for you,” he said it through painfully grit teeth, “I can’t be mad at you for loving someone else, I’m just mad you didn’t tell me. Keith if it’s going to make you happy to be with him instead of me-.”

“He tried to kill me.”

Keith’s interruption had James frozen, blinking, confused at the empty look on Keith’s face, “I’m sorry?”

Keith shut his eyes and took a breath before stepping forward, opening the door behind James and leading him into the dorm for privacy before closing the door and stepping past James to pace the room a little. James turned to watch him, brow drawn in confusion.

“What did you just say?”

Keith paused in his steps, head down, “Shiro tried to kill me, when we were still on the fringes of the universe, galaxies away from Earth.”

“Why? Did you disobey one too many orders?” James thought it was a joke, an excuse, but the painful look Keith offered him shut down those thoughts instantly.

He reached out to roll a chair closer, his chair, James thought to himself, and sat down heavily, dropping his tablet and bag before undoing the buttons of his uniform coat, staring at the floor between his shoes.

“You were debriefed on Haggar and the existence of her druids already?”

“… yea. She was an Altean Alchemist poisoned by Quintessence, right? Some psycho witch who caused you problems up in space?”

Keith gave a single nod, “She was the one who took Shiro’s arm. She… used the DNA from it and… created clones of him. I think because he was the Champion of the arena, undefeated, she thought of him as a tool, a weapon, an item for war,” he shrugged off his orange cadet coat and threw it over the back of his chair so he was only in a sleeveless white undershirt, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands folded together.

“You just said clones,” James mumbled, dragging his own chair over, but giving Keith plenty of space, “You’re kidding, right?”

Keith lifted his hands up and set his lips against them, “You weren’t debriefed on a lot of things because of clearance, but there were also things, facts and information, we didn’t give the Garrison at all.”

“That’s illegal, Keith, you can’t just withhold information-.”

“Shiro was scared, and so were the rest of us,” Keith quickly defended, “We were embarrassed, humiliated, and Shiro… this effected him most of all. Who knows what the Garrison would do to him if they found out? Strap him to a table again, drain his blood out, cut samples off his body, all the things the Galra did to him. All the things Haggar did to him.”

James felt sick, “Keith…”

“It’s the same reason we haven’t discussed my heritage in depth with the Garrison, because Shiro, and my mom, don’t want me to end up a prisoner, an experiment, some science subject to dissect because I’m half alien,” Keith kept his hands lifted, a faraway look in his eyes, and James clenched his hands into fists at his knees.

The very idea of the Garrison doing that, hurting Keith like that, made James furious. If they ever did something even close to that, if they subjected Keith to any kind of torture simply because of his blood, James was going to lose his mind.

“Shiro was sick,” Keith continued after a moment, “before Kerberos. He managed it when we became paladins, but we, he and I, knew it could only be managed for so long. I should’ve expected it to come back to him, especially when we reached a point to fight Zarkon head on. We won that battle, but we lost Shiro in the midst of it. He just disappeared from the Black Lion, and I was basically hustled into taking his place, but I kept searching for him. His body was gone, what was I supposed to think other than the possibility of the Black Lion teleporting him to safety? Weeks passed, but we finally found him in a Galra fighter, floating in space with no power. We had him back, but… I should’ve known there was something off about him.

"He couldn’t connect with the Black Lion at first, but I wasn’t ready to take over, I wasn’t ready to be a leader, even though he chose me to be his successor. I forced his hand, separated myself from Voltron while training with the Blade of Marmora, and he managed to reconnect with Black. He was back as the leader, so I left Voltron completely and joined the Blade exclusively.”

“I didn’t… know about that.”

“I know,” Keith didn’t meet his eye or turn to face him, kept leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his folded hands hiding his mouth, eyes on the floor as he continued his recount, “Haggar was controlling Shiro, looking through his eyes to spy on everything Voltron did. Maybe she was keeping an eye on Lotor, maybe she was searching for the Blade of Marmora, I don’t know.”

“How could she be controlling him? With his arm? He had a different arm before, that’s what Commander Holt said.”

“Haggar replaced his arm with a Galra tech prosthetic,” Keith explained, “but no. She was able to control his actions and manipulate his thoughts because he wasn’t the real Shiro. The real Shiro… he died when we fought Zarkon.”

“Wh… what the hell are you…?”

“The Shiro we found was a clone, and he went crazy when I came back with Romelle, when we exposed Lotor as a genocidal maniac like his father. He beat us back and grabbed Lotor before escaping in a pod, and I went after him. I didn’t know what was happening, all I knew was I couldn’t lose him, so I followed him to a facility on a desolate moon in the middle of nowhere,” he dropped his hands from his mouth, as if he wanted his words to come out clearly, “There were rows and rows of cryopods, and in each one there was a clone. Each one was Shiro. Haggar had been working on this for… years, ever since she took his arm, and none of us had any idea, least of all him. But… the clone I had followed, he… was being manipulated by Haggar, and he attacked me.”

“He… tried to kill you.”

“Yes,” Keith whispered the word, shutting his eyes and bowing his head, “I couldn’t lose him. I fought back, I defended, but Shiro was an undefeated gladiator, people called him the Champion, he was maybe the strongest being in the entire universe. I didn’t use my full strength, I was scared, I didn’t want to hurt him but I didn’t want to lose him, and he wasn’t listening to me,” he lifted his hands and rubbed them over his face, “He had me pinned down, his sword was… glowing, burning, inches from my face,” he dropped one hand, covering the scar on his face with the other, “but the pain made me snap, gave me a boost of adrenaline, and I cut off the Galra arm with the black bayard. After that… the damage we’d done to the facility caused it to break apart, and we free fell towards the surface of the moon. We would’ve both died if it hadn’t been for the Black Lion.”

“Keith, what… if Shiro is a clone-.”

“It’s really him,” Keith quickly said, “His body died, but his consciousness had been saved in the Black Lion. How do I explain this,” he mumbled the last part, holding his chin, fingers pressed to his lips, “His body was weak, he’d been suffering from a chronic disease for years before leaving on the Kerberos mission, but his mind was strong. I think it was because of his connection to the Black Lion that saved him, but his essence was stored in the Black Lion’s consciousness- his memories, his emotions, everything he is was saved, but his weakened body was destroyed. He died. Allura is an Altean alchemist, she was able to transfer Shiro’s consciousness and quintessence from the Black Lion and into the near dead body of his clone. So the Shiro we have now IS the Takashi Shirogane all of us know and love, just in a different body. That’s why his hair is white, it changed from the trauma of his consciousness being inserted into a different body.”

“I have a headache…”

Keith dropped his hand and took a breath, “I’ve been having nightmares about the fight I had with him,” he explained, dragging a thumb over the scar on his cheek, “Phantom pain, this scar has been aching, like being able to relax here on Earth just magnifies the trauma stuck in my head. The more peaceful things are, the more wound up and anxious I get, and I start having worse nightmares. Lately all I can dream about is Shiro… about Haggar taking control of his body and… almost dying at his hand. It terrifies me, but it also scares me when I think about losing him, because… I really do love him. He’s my closest friend, and he’s helped me through so much, he deserves to find peace after everything he’s been through.

"Last night I left the room, I went to talk to him, talk it out, tell him what I was dreaming about. I just needed reassurance from his mouth. He said he was feeling okay, feeling like himself, he said he wasn’t getting headaches anymore, and he felt completely in tune with his mind and body. It made me feel better, but I don’t know if my nightmares will stop just because he’s not an evil clone out to kill me.

"I know he doesn’t want to hurt me, I know he would never strike at me if he could help it, and I know that it wasn’t really him who tried to kill me, but… it doesn’t seem to matter when I’m asleep. That’s why I’ve been yelling Shiro’s name, and honestly… I didn’t realize I was yelling at all, so I’m really sorry about that. I can’t control myself when I’m having bad dreams, but James I don’t… I don’t want to break up.”

James held his breath as Keith finally sat straighter, turning the chair so he was facing James, “The past few months, you’re the one who’s been there, always there, always waiting to comfort me. The bad dreams aren’t as scary to me when I wake up because I know you’re there beside me, waiting for me. I know it’s not fair to you, but you’ve become an anchor to me, stability. That’s what I need James. I need you. Shiro is my best friend, but he’s the one I’m having nightmares about, so I really don’t think seeing him upon waking would make anything better. It might just trigger me into a worse panic attack. Can you really imagine that? Waking up from a nightmare where he’s trying to kill me, turning to see his face, you really think I won’t scream?”

James winced dramatically at that, fighting the anger boiling in his gut at Shiro for what he did to Keith, and the giddy weightlessness of his mind from Keith saying he needed him. This was no time to blush, not when Keith was baring his soul like an exposed nerve.

“I love Shiro, and I don’t hate him for what happened, the last thing I want is for him to feel guilty and hate himself for hurting me,” Keith quickly added, as if he could sense the protective aura radiating off James, “This isn’t his fault, it’s no ones fault, but listen to me. I don’t want to break up with you. Okay? That’s what this boils down to, and I won’t accept it. Try and get rid of me, you think I’ll leave? I love you, James.”

He sucked in sharply through his teeth, that was the first time Keith had ever confessed that, and it had James leaning forward, “Hey, say that again.”

Keith just huffed through his nose and leaned forward to mirror James, touching their foreheads together, “I love you.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“I love you.”

“Maybe once more?”

Keith reached out to grab James’ face, pressing their lips together in a warm yet chaste, gentle kiss that had James melting, reaching out to Keith as he pulled back to whisper, “I love you, James Griffin.”

“Yea? Yea… I’m pretty sure I love you too,” they pulled back together for another kiss, and James trailed his lips over to trace them around the scar on Keith’s cheek, making a shiver run down his spine, “You’re not scared, are you?”

Keith tensed in defiance, “I’m not scared.”

“Can I see everything?”

“You’ve already seen everything a hundred times,” Keith hummed, and James smiled against the scar.

“Yea, but I’ve got a different mindset right now. Let me see.”

Keith sighed a little and leaned back, but James stayed in place, watching Keith tug his undershirt free of his jeans so he could pull it up over his head, dropping it and giving James an impatient look. James leaned back and coaxed Keith to follow with his hands out, smiling when the paladin stood from his seat and took a step forward so he could straddle James, sitting in his lap, hands on his shoulders and ducking his head to kiss him while James wrapped an arm around his waist, one hand following the curve of his spine up, fisting the hair at the back of his neck to tug him deeper into the kiss.

They pulled away, because as much as James wanted to make out with a shirtless Keith, that wasn’t the point of this, and he dropped his eyes to the scar on his right shoulder. It was the worst one he had on his body, grotesque and malformed, the edges stretched and uneven. It started halfway down the right side of his chest, cutting up and over his shoulder before stretching down to stop at his shoulder blade. It was widest up at his shoulder, discolored and almost disgusting to look at, but James still pressed his lips to it, and Keith combed the fingers of one hand through his hair to cradle the back of his head, sighing as his body shivered.

James’ hands sought out the scars on Keith’s back, not nearly as bad as the one on his shoulder, but still worthy of James’ worship, his lips moving across Keith’s chest so he could place a kiss to each and every scar, every little bruise that refused to fade from Keith’s normally pale skin. It was almost a tragedy that they stubbornly stayed to mark up Keith’s body, and it was these times when James acknowledged them, and the scars, that he realized just how disgustingly imperfect this man was.

He wasn’t free of blemishes, he wasn’t cut like a God, and his skin didn’t glow like porcelain. There were awkward tan lines, the tips of his fingers were darker than his palms because of the gloves he almost never took off, callouses on each finger to compliment the tiny scars and scrapes left over from his swordplay. The skin at his hairline seemed darker than the rest, and there were light red splashes across his face from the biting sun, parts of his skin dry and peeling, other parts soft and smooth.

His stomach was concave but firm with muscle, his slender form fighting to maintain those developed muscles, stretch marks at his hips and especially his thighs. There were random scars everywhere, his hips and up his ribs, and James tried to kiss each one, hands curling under Keith’s thighs when he couldn’t reach them all and standing. Keith’s legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, arms winding around his neck and face burying in his hair as he was carried to the bed and dropped so the fighter pilot could follow.

James bit new bruises into Keith’s sharp collar bones, up the column of his neck to sink his teeth into the discolored tissue of the scar on his cheek, never hurting him, just kissing and nipping possessively as if he could cover it with his own marks, remove every scar that Keith had by kissing them away so the only things left over were hickies that would fade in time.

When they first did this, James didn’t take too much time kissing at the scars. A part of him had been sickened by them, not by Keith but by the fact someone had hurt him so badly to leave permanent marks. He kissed and bit at each scar he could find before turning Keith’s mind to mush so he didn’t have to think of anything but James.

Now, though, he took his time, heart racing in his chest and breaths scorching his own throat, kissing down to Keith’s side and trailing his lips across his ribs, forehead brushing across the wrinkled sheets as Keith sighed and pet James’ hair. He didn’t really get why James insisted on doing this every time, but he couldn’t deny how peaceful and cherished it made him feel, that James was willing to take the time and acknowledge his scars like this.

Even when his fingers were undoing the belt around Keith’s waist, he kept his lips pressed to a hypertrophic scar angled on his stomach, leading down beneath his naval and stopping near his left hip. Keith had insisted it had been a shallow cut from a knife, received when he was on a mission with the Blade of Marmora, promised it had barely stung and healed quickly, but James still felt horrible when he looked at it.

From what he understood of the Blades, they didn’t exactly have an expansive collection of healing pods, and they certainly hadn’t been used to treat shallow cuts like this had been. That meant Keith had sat alone in whatever room they’d allowed him, Marmora suit undone and peeled from his torso, pooled at his hips so he could clean the blood away from his own wound and smooth a bandage over it so he could go right back to another mission.

Alone, treating his own wounds, so many of these scars he’d been forced to patch up on his own, and James hated that so much. There weren’t as many scars on Keith’s legs, thankfully, but James still slid lower once he’d gotten his jeans off, kissing his thigh where the skin had yellowed from a bad bruise that never healed fully.

“Turn around,” James mumbled against Keith’s inner thigh, knowing it wasn’t fair while he was shaking so much but not caring, “On your stomach.”

Keith groaned a little but did as told, rolling onto his stomach and wrapping his arms underneath his pillow, holding it against his face as James crawled back over him, kissing skin as he went, fingers digging into scars and teeth sinking into discolored bruises in the skin until he was hovering over Keith, forehead pressed to his shoulder and lips against the back of the scar there.

“I love you,” James whispered it into Keith’s ear, and Keith shifted so he could slide one arm out from beneath the pillow, reaching back to tangle his fingers through James’ hair and holding him still as he turned his head, trapping their lips together in a clumsy kiss.

“I know you do, darling,” he said it so low that James could hear the hint of a nearly depleted drawl, he always wondered if Keith always had that accent and why it had faded from his voice now.

He bit down on Keith’s bottom lip, one elbow pressed to the mattress slipping under Keith’s chest, his free hand holding his hip, thumb massaging circled into his back as he settled his body on top of Keith’s. He was still fully clothed besides his shoes, leaving Keith in his boxers and nothing else, but James was so distracted kissing him he barely noticed.

Keith noticed, and he thumped his hand against the mattress a few times as if in annoyance, breaking the kiss but keeping their faces together, “Drawer,” he mumbled the word, and James grumbled as he ducked his head to bite Keith’s shoulder, arm swinging blindly to the side where the drawer was sitting and yanking it open to search the contents.

There was a gun there, notepad and pens, a small bottle of aspirin, loose band-aids (because sometimes Keith came back after training with his knuckles busted and tiny scrapes on his face), and finally his fingers hit the bottle of what he wanted, clutching it while still searching until he found a wrapped square. Both were dropped onto the bed carelessly as Keith tugged on James’ shirt.

“Off.”

This part always amused James, how Keith would get so invested in the foreplay that he couldn’t make out more than one or two words. In the beginning James would tease him for it, but stopped when he discovered Keith was a lot nicer when James just shut up and did as he was told. He was good at following orders after all, and if it made Keith happy he didn’t mind having to sit back on his knees to undo the buttons of his cadet uniform, shucking it off his shoulders, rolling his hips against Kieth just to make him moan, fingers biting into the sheets, pressing his mouth against the pillow to muffle the sound.

Keith didn’t like making noise when they did this, but his stubbornness made it a game. Even though they were dating, both Keith and James were still as competitive with each other as ever, and they took a lot of joy trying to make each other moan. That wasn’t the point this time, though. James didn’t want to push Keith like he normally did when he topped, he wanted to take his time, because it felt like the right thing to do.

After nights one after the other of nothing but nightmares and silent sobbing, Keith didn’t need to be fucked into the mattress until he couldn’t breathe, he needed a gentle touch that made him unwind slowly. Warm hands sliding down his sides to hold his waist and lips obsessed with the scar on his shoulder, taking such a long time to do something other than bite at his shoulder that Keith growled a little, reaching back to scratch at James’ head.

“Stop.”

“You want me too?” James asked, kissing Keith’s shoulder, thumbs hooking beneath the band of his boxers.

“Just… go.”

James smiled against his skin, “Oh, am I sleeping on the floor? You want me to leave the room?”

“James,” Keith snarled his name and James laughed breathlessly against him before fully removing the final piece of clothes Keith had been wearing, discarding them off the bed and pressing his body down against Keith, chest to his bare back, teeth sinking into the lobe of his ear as he rolled his hips and slipped his still covered but already remarkably hard erection against him.

“Say it again,” James whispered to him, hands squeezing Keith’s hips to keep him from bucking against him, “My name.”

Keith was panting with nothing but anticipation, one arm thrown over his head, which was turned to the side so he could look over his shoulder at James, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, “James…”

“Yea baby,” James kissed his cheek, “What do you want from me?”

“Hands… just…”

“Shhh, I got you baby,” James smiled against his cheek and sat back, pulling the bottle of lube with him and popping it open with his thumb, one hand dragging from Keith’s shoulders and down to the curve of his ass, “Can you lift up for me a bit?”

Keith mumbled and shifted a little to push up on his knees, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, because no matter how many times they did this, and no matter who was the one on his stomach, neither were going to get over how nerve wracking the beginning was. The idea of baring themselves like this, not just nude, but emotionally stripping themselves to be able to get to the point of positive intimacy, it was an experience neither had truly considered or experienced before, and something James never wanted to let go of.

He leaned over Keith and pushed his arm up just enough to see his face when slick fingers pushed into him, a roll of pleasure slipping down his spine from the way Keith’s mouth opened in a gasp, face turning to hide most of himself in the pillow, cheeks flush and eyes pinched closed. He looked beautiful like that, and James loved watching. He was careful as he moved his fingers, ensuring there was enough lube added so the friction was bearable while he was being prepped.

James moved closer, angling his fingers to drive deeper and licking his lips unconsciously at the way Keith keened, back arching and hips bucking back with a short cry he bit down on. A kiss was dropped to Keith’s temple, over yet another scar, and James stayed there as he scissored his fingers a bit before pushing deeper and sliding back.

“There you go, baby, is this what you wanted?” James crooned to him, and Keith offered a broken moan in response, “You’re doing so good, you’re always so good for me.”

Maybe it was a kink, but James was just a bit less than completely obsessed with praising Keith during sex, and Keith always responded positively, so he definitely got off on the praise. Even if it was dirty, even if the things James praised him for were so utterly filthy, he couldn’t get enough, and neither could James.

“You always open up so nice for me, baby,” James kissed his throat, purposely so he could feel the vibrations from Keith’s moan, “Just a little more and I’ll give you what you really want. I won’t make you beg for it this time, promise. I’ll give it as soon as you’re ready.”

“’M ready,” Keith grunted, and James kissed the edge of his lips.

“You’re still tight, the last thing I want is to hurt you.”

“Don’t care,” Keith bucked his hips back and James felt his fingers thrust deeper, a gasp ripping from Keith’s throat.

He was just about ready to fuck himself on James’ fingers, and that was no good, so James sat back and grabbed his hip to still him, carefully slipping his fingers free before picking the condom up and tearing it open, removing the boxers he still wore and rolling the latex on.

“Hang on, baby,” James breathed to Keith, who’s face was hidden in the pillow, shoulders shaking and hips swaying, and he was definitely doing that to tempt James as if they weren’t already about to do something completely indecent.

Keith covered his mouth with his own hand to stifle the half-screamed moan that tore out, but he could only hide so much as James positioned himself, lubed slick and dripping, before pushing himself in and hitting home, bottoming out with just a few well-aimed and deep thrusts that had Keith’s toes curling and his back bowing, hand dropping to cling to the sheets as his shoulders lifted from the bed, head falling back.

James trailed his hand up his chest to his chin, fingers sliding over his parted lips and biting at his neck to leave a mark, “I told you I wanted to wait, baby, you’re still so tight,” it was said on a grunt, and there was a note of honest concern in his voice, but Keith just panted, chest heaving and eyes rolling, parting his lips further to urge James’ fingers into his mouth, biting at them gently.

It made James laugh a little, giving a few shallow thrusts that had Keith whimpering, which in turn had James hushing him delicately. There was no fierceness in the way he moved, no urgency at all, he continued to give Keith slow thrusts that had him trembling while trailing kissing across his shoulders.

“There you go, baby, move your hips for me,” James murmured in Keith’s ear, and he responded eagerly by bucking back, rolling his hips in time with James’ thrusts.

James held his hips and pulled out, much to Keith’s dismay and frustration, but James just hugged him around the chest when he tried to kick him, “I want to see your face,” James said, “Roll onto your back.”

Keith huffed at that but obeyed, flopping onto his back and peering up at James with angry narrowed eyes that became foggy and eager when James lifted his hips and slipped forward, holding tight as he slid himself back in, smiling at the contorted expression that Keith gave in response, head digging back into the pillow.

James enclosed his body over Keith’s, arms wrapping around him, trapping his mouth in a kiss before starting the rhythm of his hips again, and he smiled against Keith’s lips as he threw his own arms around James’ back and shoulders, nails biting into the skin along his shoulders and hips squeezing his sides so hard they were both likely to have bruises.

He cried sobs into James’ mouth that he tried to tame, unable to keep in more than one or two whimpers while the rest of his moans and whines flew out unhindered. That was another reason James wanted Keith on his back, so he couldn’t stifle the cries, because James loved it so much, all the noises he made, and the fact he was the one causing them.

His head was on fire and so was his body, tipping towards the edge, but he held himself in control as long as he good, giving Keith a good long ride until he was writhing beneath him and making noises that James would massacre a solar system if someone else heard. The sweet sounds were for his ears only, the expressions Keith made in the throes of ecstasy were for his eyes and his alone, the marks kissed into his neck were marks only James was allowed to make, and that tongue, that was only allowed to scream James’ name, no one elses.

“Baby say my name,” James pressed his forehead against Keith’s, “Say my name.”

Keith gasped, tears in his eyes, wrapping his arms tighter around the form above him and whispering, “James,” in a voice so sultry James had to pinch his eyes shut, his hips stuttering before finding their rhythm again.

The man’s voice was a fucking crime, and James kissed him breathless and fucked him through his orgasm. Even when he felt nails break the skin of his back and scratch deep furrows into his skin, he continued to fuck Keith’s mouth with his tongue and thrust until Kieth’s body gave out, arms falling against the mattress and head sinking into the pillows.

James struggled to regain his breathing as he pulled out, lying Keith’s hips reverently against the sheets and scattering a constellation of kisses along his face until Keith grumbled and lifted a hand to push at his face.

“Stop it, fucker, that’s gross.”

“Gross? I just fucked you till you came on your own chest and kissing your forehead gross?”

Keith gave a muffled laugh, lifting a hand to push through the fringe of his hair and opening tired eyes to gaze up at James, who hovered over him, “Hey.”

“Hm.”

“I love you.”

James just continued to stare at Keith a moment before ducking down to kiss him sweetly, “Love you too, bitch.”

They could have taken a shower to clean up, but Keith looked exhausted from constantly waking up from nightmares, not getting nearly enough sleep for the past month at least, so they used the baby wipes in the dresser to make themselves decent enough that they wouldn’t soil the sheets, before slipping under the covers and huddling against each other.

James spooned Keith from behind, arms wrapped around him, and he was half asleep with his face buried in pitch hair that smelt like sweat, sex, and shampoo before realizing Keith was, for once, the one closest to the outside of the bed.

“Babe, switch places,” James murmured groggily, squeezing Keith around the shoulders, “You’re close to the edge.”

“S'fine,” Keith responded in an equally tired voice, reaching an arm up and tangling his fingers with the back of James’ hair, “This way if someone breaks in I can protect you.”

James opened his eyes fully, staring at the wall across the room, realization crashing into him. He felt stupid for not realizing before, the reason Keith kept his back to the wall, hiding against James. He was scared of people coming in, scared of some kind of enemy interrupting their sleep, scared of being caught vulnerable and held in a corner without a weapon. So he hid himself, in the most defensive position he could.

He didn’t feel even the slightest bit annoyed at the fact Keith had been using him as a human shield, either. He just felt a painful stab to his chest at the fact he hadn’t picked up on Keith’s anxiety. At the same time, he felt speechless that Keith was willingly facing the room, his back to James’ chest instead of the wall. It seemed like a pretty big development on its own.

Keith felt safe with James, he wanted to protect James. In this situation, James was the wall Keith put his back to, his defense, stability, and that had James hugging him even tighter, pressing one last kiss to the back of his neck before settling deeper into the bed.

He wasn’t worried about Keith having nightmares anymore; and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be crying anyone else’s name from now on, either.


End file.
